Forgive me?
by Dokuro22501
Summary: Sherlock's back. After seeing the trailer I decided to write a fanfiction on his reappearance from what we've seen and then to continue carrying on into my thoughts on what we haven't seen.


**Day 730**

The emptiness seems to have gotten better since Mary's been around, but it's still there. I have bad days…where all I can think about is him; His last words replaying themselves constantly. The nightmares went away for a while upon Mary's appearance, but they're back. It always ends the same. I wake up knowing it's just a dream, but then I remember that it's also reality. I can't help but cry. Today marks two years since the incident. _**Two years… And I still miss him as much as Day 1.**_

John closed his laptop.

He got up from his desk, taking a deep breath, and then put his coat on. It was a rainy day as usual, but today it was different. Today the rain was to John's advantage. He thought it best to leave the umbrella at home. He thought, just in case it was too much, the rain would hit his face and disguise the tears.

John spent hours just walking. He knew his final destination, but he was avoiding it: **221B Baker Street.**

John stared indecisively at the door before knocking on it.

"John!" Ms. Hudson cried as she cracked the door open. "What a nice surprise!" She opened the door completely and then signaled John to come in. John hesitantly stepped inside. "Look at you." Ms. Hudson said with disapproval, "Walking about in the rain, under dressed and without an umbrella." Of course the disapproval was only out of love. John just stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to do or say. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Ms. Hudson offered as she made her way to the kitchen, John following. John examined the place as if he had never seen it before. But nothing was different. He knew the flat all too well – not a thing had change.

"Here you are." Ms. Hudson stated when she sat John's cup of tea in front of him and then sat down across from him. John nervously placed his hand around his tea mug. "So tell me, how have you been?" Ms. Hudson sought to make conversation.

"Uh… Well you know." John cleared his throat. "I've been well."

"That's great!" Ms. Hudson smiled. "I haven't seen you since you decided to leave the flat."

"Yeah, sorry about that… I just don't really think I could have handled it." John explained. John had decided to leave the flat only weeks after Sherlock's death. Ms. Hudson, however, couldn't bring herself to leave. Both made their decision due to the same reason; there was where their dearest memories of Sherlock were.

"I understand dearie." Ms. Hudson said forgivingly. After small talk, John slowly began opening up about his personal life. He told her about his new flat, his job, Mary, and his plans to propose. John dodged the topic of Sherlock and the effects on him after the fall.

"Well I better be off. I have errands to run before dinner with Mary." John informed.

"Oh yes, of course." Ms. Hudson sighed. She wanted to spend more time with him, but she knew he had probably been in the flat for too long. John was beginning to get a little agitated.

Ms. Hudson walked John out and gave him a big hug before their goodbyes.

"Stay in touch, will you John?" Ms. Hudson asked.

"Of course." John assured, although he wasn't certain on the request.

Ms. Hudson shut the door with a sigh. She had used every ounce of her strength to be strong during the conversation with John. Even though he did not say why he was visiting, she knew. Not a day goes by that she doesn't think about the incident, so of course she knew that today made it two years without him.

Still standing at the door, one hand placed on the knob and the other on the window, Ms. Hudson allowed tears to silently roll down her face. Moments later, she stood up straight, and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

She made her way back to her house work; starting with the pile of dishes in the sink. The kitchen was quiet and dim. The only light was shining in from the gloomy outside. A shadow coming through the kitchen door window caused Ms. Hudson to jump. She couldn't make out the image until it was right behind the door. A black silhouette of a person appeared. Ms. Hudson froze as the man put his hand against the door and began to push it open. The man slowly stepped into the room, but was still hidden by the shadows. Ms. Hudson dropped the plate that she was washing, sending it crashing to the ground, when the man walked into the light. Ms. Hudson, gasping for air, choked on her words. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The tall, slender, dark haired man walked closer and closer to Ms. Hudson. He stopped only within inches of her.

"Sherlock…" Ms. Hudson managed to whisper.

"I'm alive, Ms. Hudson." Sherlock grinned.

"Where did I put the bloody thing?" Lestrade asked himself as he searched his coat and looked around to see if he had dropped it, although you'd think if you dropped a phone you would have heard it. "Maybe I left it." Lestrade answered his question. He turned around to begin walking back when he heard the ringing of his phone. He looked for a light that would be coming from the screen in the dark hallway. Yet, he could see nothing; he could only hear it. Footsteps filled the room as the echo bounced off the walls. "Who's there?" Lestrade asked. The ringing of his phone stopped, and so did the footsteps. The tall figure cast a shadow upon Lestrade. "Who are you? What do you want?" Lestrade strained his eyes to try and make out the person through the dark.

"Looking for this?" The figure asked as he revealed Lestrade's phone. As he walked closer to Lestrade, Lestrade could make out who the figure was.

"Impossible." He said to himself. "Sherlock..."

"I'm alive, Lestrade."

Mycroft sat delicately while he read. It was completely silent around him and he was deep in thought until he was his concentration was broken by obnoxious footstep coming from around the corner. Mycroft looked up to try and see who was making the noise but the person was not yet visible. The footsteps got louder as they got closer. It sounded like the person was about to come round the corner, yet it seemed like the person was taking forever to get there. Finally the person made their way around the corner and confidently walked towards Mycroft.

"Sher-"

"Good evening, Mycroft." The man greeted. Mycroft was astonished.

"Good evening." Mycroft said. He honestly wasn't quite sure what to say, or if there was anything you could say in a situation like this.

"I'm alive, Mycroft." Sherlock informed.

"I can see that." Mycroft, still unsure of how to respond, breathlessly stated.

Molly finished filing the papers for the John Doe: Male, 25, Suffocation. She stared into the morgue, recalling all the memories, before turning out the lights and heading towards the locker room. "Two years." Molly began talking to herself. "It's already been two years. Where are you now?" Thoughts raced through Molly's mind and before she knew it she was already in the locker room. She dropped her bag down beside her and then opened the locker. It took her several seconds to realize a reflection, which was not hers, in the mirror. She turned around quickly with a gasp. "Sherlock!" She practically yelled. She refrained herself from running up to him and hugging him.

"Yes, Molly." Sherlock walked closer and closer to her. "I'm alive."

"I know. You're finally back." She was smiling, yet tears began forming in her eyes.

"Does John know?" Molly asked Sherlock as they walked to the lab.

"No, I haven't seen him yet." Sherlock answered with a bit of an impatient tone.

"Oh-"

"Yes, well I plan on going to see him next. He seems to be having dinner with someone."

"Mary." Molly informed.

"Yes, Mary." He began getting touchy with the subject.

"I've missed you, Sherlock. I'm glad you're back."

"Yes, well I have business to take care of. Thank you, Molly." He said and made his way out.

The sun began to fall and night would soon consume the day. John walked down the street towards his destination. This destination he was not hesitant about. It was dinner with Mary, the supposed love of his life. He arrived at the restaurant early, but the previous table occupants had already left. John sat there patiently, sipping a glass of wine and reading the menu.

Sherlock walked through the doors in the restaurant that were being opened for him. John's table was immediately in sight. Sherlock slowly walked over to him with a look of discontentment on his face. Time seemed to slow down as he got closer to John's table.

"Is this seat taken?" Sherlock said as he finally approached the table.

"Uh- yes, it is." John answered as he looked up. His answer faded as he saw who was standing there.

"It's been a while, John." Sherlock sincerely said. "Aren't you going to say something?" Sherlock almost began to panic from the silence.

"No." John said.

"No?"

"No. No. No. This isn't possible. This can't be happening." John stood up from his chair.

"It is John. I'm here." Sherlock corrected.

"No, you are dead!" John began to lose his temper and pace back and forth.

"No, I'm not. I'm right here." Sherlock said, "And I'm alive."

John walked angrily closer towards Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock grew confused. He couldn't deduct John's next move.

"How could you do this?" John asked as he pulled his arm back and curled his fist.

"John, I can exp-"Sherlock tried to explain, but it was too late. John's first went right into his face.

This time there was no avoiding the nose and teeth.

"John!" A cry came from the entrance of the restaurant. Mary ran over to the commotion. "What are you doing?"

"Get him out of here!" John yelled as he began pacing again running his hands through his hair. Mary helped Sherlock off the ground and took him outside.

"I'm sorry about that." Mary politely apologized for John's action.

"No, it's okay. I deserved it." Sherlock said, holding a napkin to his bleeding nose.

"What?" Mary asked. Sherlock looked over at her as if he was deducing her whole life. "Who are you?" She became curious.

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you." Sherlock introduced himself and reached his hand out so she could shake it. She did not shake it.

"Sherlock Holmes." She stated. "You're Sherlock Holmes. But you're…" She began.

"Dead." Sherlock finished.

"Then how are you here?" Mary asked. Sherlock laughed. It wasn't something he was about to explain to her.

"John." Mary and Sherlock said in unison as John walked out the door, his nerves still shaking. John looked up at Sherlock with an angry expression.

"Come on, Mary." He demanded and then began walking away. Mary began to follow.

"John, wait." Sherlock begged. John stopped but did not turn around. Mary could see the tears wanting to form in John's eyes.

"You…" John said turning around and walking towards him with a pointed finger, "are dead. You've been dead for two years. TWO YEARS!" John was beginning to lose his temper again.

"It was for your own good, John." Sherlock tried to make him understand.

"My own…my own good?!" John yelled. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HELL YOU'VE PUT ME THROUGH?"

"John… I need you to understand."

"No, no. I'm leaving." John said as he began walking away, grabbing Mary's hand and taking her with him. This time Sherlock did not try to stop him, he just watched him leave. Sherlock knew John needed time to digest what was happening. He just hoped it would happen sooner than later.


End file.
